Oranges and Lemons
by Dante Corwyn
Summary: Sorta spoiler for series 7, and set after. Willow's spell has a consequence that no-one could predict.


She had entered the shop just after dusk. A little unusual for her, usually she slept in, but tonight was to be a busy night and she had work to do. But first some fun was in order. And breakfast was the best start to the night. That's what father said. Before he developed a conscience.  
  
The old man died so easily. Normally she would have played with her food, but time was not on her side and so she reluctantly dispelled with the pleasantries. Old people always left something in her teeth so she did not savour the food as she usually did. Rather she gulped it down, not bothering to taste it.  
  
Something told her that caution was in order. Again breaking with tradition. The door was closed and the body disposed of behind the counter. The lights were half-dimmed. The doll-maker would be working late everyone would suppose.  
  
A set of curtains led to a workshop and that was where she found her. Miss Elspeth sat at front, as she was the prettiest of all the little girls. Mummy walked up to her, stroking her curls. And then the fairies danced for her.  
  
"I can feel them Buffy."  
  
The witch said that. But that was in Sunnydale. So far, far away.  
  
Pain.  
  
She fell onto the ground. This was not a normal vision. This was more.  
  
"We saved the world."  
  
The boy. She loved him for a night. By witchcraft. The memory still surfaced every once in a while, how she had loved HER friend more than father. She was still smiling when the next shock of pain thrashed through her.  
  
"You beat 'em back, it's for me to do the clean up."  
  
Spike. Why die for her?! The only person who could possibly console her in her pain had loved HER more than herself. Even before he became like Angel. Not like Angel. Now dead. Some part of her wanted to say a prayer for him but was soon crushed by the burning desire for self-preservation. If his symbol burned, what would a heartfelt plea to him cause to her?  
  
She was on her back now. The pain was changing now. It was bordering pleasure.  
  
"What if you could have that power?"  
  
The visions were flashing before her eyes. A black girl in rags and a knife of bone.  
  
"She has the sight."  
  
Angelus?  
  
"Eternal torment. Am I learning?"  
  
Angelus. Was this why you chose me for your gift father?  
  
"So I say we change the rules."  
  
HER voice. HER who changed it all. Who should be dead. Twice. Three times a charm.  
  
Buffy.  
  
"Spike has killed a Slayer! A Slayer, Angelus! What have you done!"  
  
Grandmother?  
  
Knowledge of before her time was in her mind now. The little fishes and the fairies burned away, screaming into the air. The spell had been localised, but was sweeping the world. Even for all her predatory stealth, it managed to find her. And change her.  
  
"A Slayer should be able to sense vampires."  
  
"Another prophetic vision?"  
  
The Watcher said that. Everything was sharper now. She was remembering other people's memories. The boys grief. The false sister's confusion. HER joy of never being alone ever again.  
  
"Tomorrow Willow will use the essence of this scythe, that contains the energy and history of so many Slayers, to change our destiny."  
  
SHE did this. The special one. HER who turned Spike from her. Took away father, and grandmother for a time.  
  
"She has the sight."  
  
Did father know? Or was the suspicion enough to gain his attention? Father was always more satisfied by torment than death.  
  
Pain was now joy. It was fading. Don't go! Please stay!  
  
"From now on, every girl in the world who might be a Slayer, will be a Slayer."  
  
Even those who were not a girl any more?  
  
"Every girl who could have the power, will have the power."  
  
Even those who were not human any more? Those who had not been human for over a hundred years?  
  
She writhed on the floor for a time, even when the pleasure had gone, bathing in the afterglow. That was more than Angelus or even Spike had ever managed to give her. A once in a lifetime moment. Why be content with a hill when you have climbed the highest mountain? Finally she rose up. The visions were with her. The scythe had done that. The witch had done that. But it was HER, no, Buffy who had the idea. The idea that had changed the world.  
  
Buffy.  
  
Sister.  
  
I must greet you. Thank you for your gift.  
  
The sun was slowly rising. Dawn had just rose and the sun had filtered through some of the curtains. Not enough to cause alarm. She did not notice the stray ray of light that had snuck through a parting in the curtain. She just stood there for a time. The ray finally settled on her hand. And she marvelled as she did not burn.  
  
Romania was slowly starting to bore her. A massacre through the daytime would be novel, and she could easily encourage the other vampires to carry on through the night. To challenge the new line of Slayers. Maybe she would have some children of her own. Would they be different now as well? Sunlight was essential for the bones. She remembered reading that somewhere.  
  
"Buffy? What are we gonna do now?"  
  
False sister said that. Dawn. Dawn Summers. Silly Christian name with THAT surname. What had her parents been thinking? Or those monks for that matter. And she remembered how Buffy answered her false sister with a smile.  
  
You shall never be alone Buffy. Your real sister will be visiting you soon. We are the same now. We are forever. But I am most of all. You may be a Slayer, but I am a vampire. Or I was. She opened the door, not even bothering to close it. Daylight bathed the streets but did not burn her. A man was walking to work, effortlessly striding down the road. She walked up to him and grabbed him from behind, drinking him dry in an instant. The first of many of her victims.  
  
And when she reached the park and killed everyone she could see, Drucilla danced in the sunlight. 


End file.
